


Christmas Miracle

by MyAngel4ever



Series: SPN Drabbles and Requests [4]
Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Miracles, Cute, Family, Fluffy, M/M, Slight underage, Snow, like really fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyAngel4ever/pseuds/MyAngel4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is twelve and Sam is seven. <br/>Sam wants to have a Christmas spent with family and see snow for the first time. But with John being a no-show and not a snowflake in sight, Sam's hopes for a perfect Christmas are withering away. However, Dean is determined to turn it around and make the best of what they have. <br/>Warning: SO MUCH FLUFF!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, my little angels! :)
> 
> I thought I'd spread some Christmas cheer in the form of Wincest/Weecest. Dean is twelve and Sam is seven.   
> Sam wants to have a Christmas spent with family and see snow for the first time. But with John being a no-show and not a snowflake in sight, Sam's hopes for a perfect Christmas are withering away. However, Dean is determined to turn it around and make the best of what they have.  
> Warning: SO MUCH FLUFF!

“C’mon, wake up, Sammy!” Dean’s voice reverberated in Sam’s little ear as he nudged him lightly. Sam had barely slept; too excited about the presents he would get from Santa, as well as his family. At first, it didn’t register that it was Christmas. It felt like every other day: sun peeking through the musty, effete rags hanging over the windows; Dean waking him up for breakfast; lying in a bed he couldn’t call his own, whose springs poked his back throughout the night. He almost told Dean to go away. But then it hit him.

His eyes shot open and his body jolted awake, pushing off the blankets even though the cold, crisp wind nipped at his skin.

“It’s Christmas!” Sam exclaimed, jumping up and down on the bed gleefully. Dean laughed and shook his head at him like he’d do when Sam’s innocence showed. Whenever he did that, though, he always saw something flash across Dean’s eyes. It’s so quick that when Sam blinks, it’s gone. Envy? Sadness? Sam can never tell.

“Get off the bed before you break it, bitch.” Dean said, pulling the sheets out from under him, causing him to fall onto the bed with a bounce.

Sam pouted. “Jerk.”

He got off the bed to get dressed, while Dean made his bed for him. Sam ran up to the closet and flung it open, scrounging around the messily packed clothes. Both he and Dean don’t bother to make it look neat; they’re going to move in a few days anyway. Luckily for them, Dad found a case in Wisconsin, so Sam was anticipating a snowy Christmas that year. He hadn’t seen snow before, and he was hoping to that day.

“Put on something warm, Sammy. It’s cold outside.” Dean said as he smoothed out the blankets.

“Is it snowing?” Sam asked excitedly; his eyes wide with hope. Dean stared at his little brother, seeming to hesitate. For a moment, Sam was worried, but then he saw his older brother begin to speak.

“Well it is pretty cold, bu-”

Sam didn’t let him finish. “I knew it! I knew it would snow!”

Sam quickly slipped on some clothes and a jersey, rushing to the door while trying to put on his gloves. Dean ran after him, trying to stop him.

“Wait, Sammy, stop!” He called out for him.

But it was too late. Sam had opened the door, expecting to see blankets of snow and Santa’s reindeer tracks imprinting the frost (which he would have asked his dad to try hunt for Santa). However, all he saw was green. Green grass with a small layer of frost. No snowball fights. No kids trying to make snowmen. It was a normal, cloudy, cold day.

Sam’s arm dropped to his side, and his eyes cast downwards, disappointed. He shut the door slowly and turned around, seeing Dean’s empathetic expression.

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Dean said in a low, calming voice. “I thought it would snow too.”

Even though Sam was heartbroken, he cracked a smile for Dean. He was a big boy now; he wasn’t going to cry over something small like snow. He was going to be tough, just like his big brother.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s not your fault.” Sam looked around, noticing Dad’s bag gone. “Where’s dad?”

Dean cringed. “He’s, uh, he’s not here. He couldn’t make it.” Hastily he grabbed a parcel. “But he did leave this for you. He also told me to say he’s sorry.”

The parcel was wrapped shoddily in brown paper, and had a small glued-on newspaper label. The word ‘Sammy’ was written in black permanent marker on the label. Sam gasped in a sudden rush of exhilaration, grabbing the present in his small hands and plopped onto the dirty couch.

Dean sat down next to him to watch him tear apart the paper to reveal the gift. Enclosed within the brown paper was two books. One book was called ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’ and the other was a lore book that Sam had been asking to read for a long time, but Bobby kept saying he was too young.

Sam grinned from ear to ear, and lunged at Dean, wrapping his tiny arms tight around him. Dean coughed out a chuckle at the gesture, but held him close anyway.

“Thank you, Dean. I love it!” He exclaimed.

“Dad gave it to you, moron.” Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam pulled away and shook his head. “No, he didn’t.” He pointed to the label. “That’s your handwriting; not dad’s. And you’re the only person, besides Bobby, who I’ve told about the lore book.”

Dean kept quiet for a moment, not wanting to make him feel as if his dad didn’t think about him for Christmas. But then he saw Sam’s smile, and he knew he could never fool him. Sam was too smart, and he was grateful for the present.

“Sometimes I wish you were dumber.” Dean jokes, earning him a brotherly punch in the arm. “Anyway, Christmas doesn’t have to suck. We can still do everything we want without snow.”

Sam’s eyebrow raised. “We can?”

“After breakfast, of course.” Dean added.

Sam whined at the remark, but Dean was stubborn with him not missing breakfast. ‘A Hunter who misses breakfast, misses his shot.’ Dean would often say to him. Thankfully for Sam, breakfast didn’t take too long.

When they were outside, Dean was true to his word. The weather was perfect: wet and muddy. Instead of snowball fights, they had a mud fight; flinging clumps of soggy dirt at each other until they were covered from head to toe. Then they went to the scrapyard three blocks away, and grabbed a flat piece of timber, which they used as a sleigh to slide down the muddy hill nearby. Sam was scared at first, holding onto Dean’s side when he saw how high they were. Dean just held him tight and assured him that everything was going to be fine; that he’d never let anything happen to him. Needless to say, after getting over the scare of the first ride, Sam insisted on doing it again. They did do it again and again and again; every time Sam’s ecstatic squeals filling the chilly air, as well as Dean’s laughter. After six time of trekking up the mountain, a burly-looking man chased them away for ruining the pasture. Like naughty boys, they ditched the board and ran away, near breathless but chuckling until they were safe.

They were a bit tired and decided to head back to the motel to do more activities there. Sam rattled off to Dean about how much fun they were having, even jumping around him. Dean had no idea how the little tyke had so much energy in him when he was near exhausted. He stopped by a lamp post for a few seconds to rest his legs, sitting down at the base. Sam joined him; not caring how dirty or silly they looked. A couple walked past them and handed them five dollars, mistaking them for street children.

When Sam tried to tell the couple that they weren’t homeless, Dean covered his mouth with his hand and said “Thank you, miss and sir. You’re very kind. God bless you.”

When the couple walked away, Sam turned to Dean, upset with his older brother’s scheming.

“Why did you do that, Dean? That’s dishonest.” He crossed his arms.

“Relax, Sammy. Consider it a Christmas gift. Now we can get some candy.” Dean said, knowing how much of a sweet tooth he had. “But first, let’s take a shower.”

 

~.~

 

After they cleaned up, it became noticeably colder, so Dean forced Sam to wear a jersey no matter how many times he protested that the moose pictures on it made him ‘look stupid’. In Dean’s opinion, it made him look adorable, but he kept that to himself.

The corner store was just across the street, so Dean took ahold of Sam’s gloved hand and guided him across the street, avoiding the traffic. Sam didn’t even notice the cars go by; he was too transfixed by the dark clouds. He didn’t like storms; the thunder scared him. He was hoping it would go away by the time they were done.

The store was warm inside, and a friendly, plump woman greeted them. Dean told Sam to look around and pick something for himself. Sam rushed off through the many shelves, searching until he found the candy section. He was about to grab a packet of marshmallows to make marshmallow nachos, but stopped himself. He didn’t want to be selfish about his choice so he took a chocolate bar they could share. He handed the chocolate to Dean, who busied himself paying for it at the counter. Sam wanted to pay for it, but the counter was too big for him to look over.

While Dean was busy chatting to the lady and rendering the goods, Sam went to the windows, staring outside. Something peculiar was happening: it was raining, but the drops didn’t look like water. They looked like… Shapes? It took him ten seconds to realise what was happening.

“Dean!” Sam screamed in delight. “It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” He turned around with the widest smile Dean had ever seen. “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

The woman laughed in adoration for Sam’s little outburst, giving Dean the change and bidding him a merry Christmas. Sam practically pulled Dean out the store. Sam looked up at the sky, watching in amazement at all the different snowflakes falling down. One landed on his nose, startling him.

“Look, Dean, I caught one!” Sam exclaimed, keeping his head in the same position as he walked towards him.

“Try catching one on your tongue.” Dean challenged him.

Sam stuck out his tongue. “Ah’m gomma cath one befwore you.”

“It’s on.” He replied, doing the same thing as his younger brother. A few seconds later Dean was claimed the victor, while Sam just accused him of cheating because he was taller. He eventually took Sam’s hand and started making their way across the traffic again. The entire time Dean held his hand, Sam was staring at the prints his gumboots made in the thin layer of snow starting to build up on the ground.

Sam wanted to play in the snow, but Dean told him to wait for the snow to build up. So, while they waited they had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. They also watched a few Christmas shows on the television before heading outside. The snow was just thick enough to have fun in.

“So, what do you wanna do first?” Dean asked.

“Let’s build a snowman!” Sam declared.

Together they gather as much snow as they could and made three round balls, stacking them on top of each other. Sam found a few pebbles to use for the eyes and mouth. He was a few inches shy from reaching the face, so Dean hoisted him up so he could reach. Instead of a carrot, Dean used an old wooden stake from his hunter gear for the nose. He also put his scarf around the snowman’s neck. They didn’t have a hat so they decided to pick a few strands of leaves from the willow trees to use as hair, as well as breaking a few branches off for the arms.

Hours went by while they made snow angels, declared a real snowball fight and even carved their initials in the willow tree. They only stopped when dusk began to set in, and it was too dark for them to see.

They went inside, exhausted and hungry, yet completely satisfied. While Dean went off to microwave a TV dinner for them and make cocoa, Sam went digging underneath his bed. He grabbed a small parcel wrapped in newspaper, hesitating. He was afraid of what Dean would think of his present for him. He worked really hard to make it for him. After a while he took it, thinking that it would be better to give him something silly instead of nothing.

Sam walked back to the couch, hiding the present behind him. They ate, drank and shared the chocolate, but Sam still kept it hidden. They were in the middle of watching ‘A Christmas Carol’ when he sucked in a breath and face his brother.

“Uh, Dean, I got you something for Christmas.” He handed the present to Dean.

Dean was astonished. He wasn’t expecting anything from Sam. The sentiment, alone, was touching to say the least.

“Thanks, buddy.” Dean smiled. In haste, he tore at the paper around the gift. It was a hand-drawn picture of Sam, Dean and Dad, fighting off a werewolf together, surrounded by a macaroni frame spray-painted gold. Above each figure was a squiggly label of ‘Me’ or ‘Dean’ or ‘Dad’.

To any other person, the drawing would be called ‘nice’ or ‘cute’ and would go unappreciated. But to Dean? It meant the world. He loved Sam unconditionally, and did his best to raise him when Dad wasn’t around. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost Sam.

Dean pressed a sweet kiss against Sam’s cheek. “I love it, Sammy. It’s the best gift ever.”

“Promise?” Sam asked with hopeful eyes.

“I promise.” Dean said, holding him tight into his side.

All in all, three Christmas miracles happened that day. The first began when two brothers, despite their chances of a horrible day, had a perfect Christmas, just by being with each other. The second miracle was a little boy’s wish was granted, allowing him to see snow for the very first time. The third miracle happened when Sam had fallen asleep in Dean’s arms. He will never admit it, but Dean _shed a tear_ , feeling happy for the first time in his life because of one drawing: Sam’s small gesture of love.

 


End file.
